


When in Doubt, Try Roses.

by lornrocks



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Roses, Slash, Smut, kinkmemefill, overuse of nicknames, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt,<i>Arthur likes to be wooed like a gentleman. Eames catches him off guard by buying him roses. Hot sex ensues.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Doubt, Try Roses.

It started out innocently enough.

Arthur had come in to the current warehouse where they were working and found a single red rose on his desk. He picks it up, turns to look around, and finding no one around, shrugs and sets the flower down.

Later that day, they adjourn after a meeting and Arthur finds himself graced with the presence of the team's charismatic (but ultimately annoying) forger.

"This is very pretty," Eames begins, picking up the rose, now drooping a little from lack of care. "What's this from?"

Arthur spares the other man a glance and shrugs.

"Don't know. It was on my desk this morning."

He goes back to shuffling through some papers, trying to find the one that he needed, when he hears a small chuckle. He turns around, crossing his arms, as if to say, _what now?_ and sees that Eames has plucked one of the rose's petals off.

"Looks like you have a secret admirer, darling."

Eames' eyes are sparkling with mischief and Arthur has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, and opts instead to turn back to his work.

Vaguely, he's aware of the rose being set down on to the table next to him and then, Arthur is alone.

Somewhere on the other side of the warehouse, Eames is mentally cursing himself. Obviously, different tactics were needed. Drastic ones. And if Eames was good at one thing, it was making a statement.

The next day, Arthur returns to his hotel room after a long day's work and finds a huge bouquet of roses waiting for him, at least two dozen. They're dark red and absolutely gorgeous.

Despite the fact that Arthur was supposed to know everything, this had him truly puzzled.

He shrugs off his suit jacket, moving to put it onto the hanger, all the while watching the roses as if they'll move and give away a clue to their origin. Naturally, they just sit there.

As he leans down to untie his shoes, the memory from the other day floats into his mind, and he recalls the way Eames was smiling as he asked about the single rose on his desk.

Frowning, he peeks at the flowers out of the corner of his eye. Could it be...?

Carefully, he shifts the roses around until he finds a small card held up by a plastic fork. Extricating it from the flower prison, he holds it in both hands and looks down upon it.

Nothing's written on the front, so warily, he opens it up, and written in incredibly neat handwriting, reads,

_Arthur dearest, stop ignoring my advances and have dinner with me. Your secret admirer, E._

Several seconds pass as Arthur just stands there, staring at the card, before his head snaps up and he sets the card down. Walking purposefully over to the door to his room, he wrenches it open, only to interrupt Eames, whose arm was raised to knock on the door.

"You," Arthur says simply, and Eames rests the hand that was going to knock against the door frame.

"Me," he repeats, those lips quirked into a smug grin, and for a second, Arthur forgets what he was going to say.

Arthur opens his mouth, shuts it. Holds up a hand and then puts it back down.

"Those are from you?" he asks, and cringes internally at the way his voice gets just a bit higher when he sounds incredulous.

Eames smiles, leaning just a little bit closer, musing, "Why Arthur. And here I thought you knew everything."

For some reason, it's suddenly very hot and Arthur reaches up to loosen his tie, trying his hardest to ignore the way Eames' eyes are following his every move.

When he feels just a little bit cooler, he pushes the door open just a little wider, holding on to it like he just might fall down if he didn't.

"But why?"

Eames looks at him for a moment, really looks at him, and for a second, Arthur thinks the other man might laugh at him, but instead, he straightens up and smiles, a softer, less cocky smile.

"Isn't it obvious, darling?" He replies, eyes sparkling with an emotion Arthur can't pinpoint. "I'm in love with you. Have been, for a while now."

The point man blinks several times before lunging forward and tugging Eames' face closer so he can kiss that stupid smile off his lips. The other returns in kind, digging one hand into Arthur's hip and the other onto his back, and after what feels like an eternity of kissing and feeling, Eames pulls away.

"As much as I would like to ravish you right here, I'm sure the room service clerk over there would call security on us."

They both turn to look and see a scrawny, rather shy looking man wheeling a cart, staring at them like he just saw a ghost.

Eames gives him a thumbs up and they disappear into Arthur's room, door shut firmly behind them as they tumble towards the bed, discarding clothing as they go. When at last Arthur is finally underneath him on the bed, Eames sits up and drinks in the body below him.

"You're gorgeous," he breathes, and Arthur leans up and tugs the other man back down.

"While I appreciate the sentiment," he whispers into Eames' ear, "I'd rather you just fuck me instead."

Eames actually chuckles and the vibrations pass into Arthur through their touch.

Eames sits back up, moving to fish something out of his discarded pants pocket, prompting Arthur to try and turn around to face the headboard. A gentle push moves him back to his original position, and he tries not to make a sound as a slick finger is pushed inside of him.

"I want to watch your face, darling," the Brit purrs, and Arthur relaxes into his touch as another finger, and soon after, a third is efficiently added. When Eames' fingers are finally pulled away, Arthur scoots down so he's on the edge of the bed, making it easier for Eames to position himself between his legs and carefully, if not slowly, push in to the hilt, making Arthur gasp and fidget.

"A little too worked up, are we Arthur?" Eames asks, voice calm despite the way his body is tensed up.

"Fuck off," Arthur groans in response, trying to shift so the cock inside of him moves.

"Tsk tsk, impatience doesn't suit you."

Eames pulls back and slams back into Arthur, making him yell out embarrassingly loud before reaching out and pulling the other man's face down so he can crush their lips together.

They move together, Eames pushing in and Arthur moving his hips to meet in the middle, their bodies making an obscene slapping noise every time they touched. Eames pulls away, long enough to plant sloppy, open mouthed kisses onto Arthur's neck, and all the while Arthur can't really contain the noises spilling from his mouth, because the whole situation is just so fucking _surreal_ , and then Eames is whispering nonsensical praise into his ear as his hand snakes down to take Arthur's cock in hand and after a few strokes Arthur comes, hard and loud, and he tightens his legs around Eames' hips. A few seconds later, Eames follows, moaning Arthur's name in a tone so tender that it's almost embarrassing.

They rest there for a minute, trying to regain their breath, before Eames moves out and away, nudging Arthur to move with him until they're both sprawled across the bed, sweaty and tired but otherwise buzzing with endorphins.

Finally, Eames turns to his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

"If I had known that all it would take to get you to fall into bed with me was a bouquet of roses, I would have done it a lot sooner," he grins, and Arthur rolls his eyes and shoves the other man so he topples.

"Shut up," he says, although his tone doesn't match the sentiment.

When Eames rolls back over to his side, Arthur mimics the position, thinking for a minute before asking, "Did you mean what you said?"

Eames' lips quirk into that small, sweet smile again before he reaches a hand up to brush some of the stray hairs that were sticking to Arthur's forehead away.

"I'm a man of my word, Arthur."

The man in question snorts.

"No, you're not."

Eames slides his hand down so it's resting just behind Arthur's ear.

"Most days, no. But this time, I can guarantee I am being completely sincere." He leans in and pulls the other man into a kiss.

"Besides," he breathes into the space between them once they pull apart, "As if my blatant flirting wasn't enough proof, I even went through the trouble of sending you flowers."

Arthur spares a glance to the roses in question, turning back and smiling just a little, admitting, "They are really beautiful."

Eames smiles back, curling his body against Arthur's.

"Not as beautiful as you are, pet."

"Smooth talker."

"Ah, but you love it, don't you?"

Eames can feel Arthur's smile spread against his skin as he whispers, "I love you."

Closing his eyes to sleep, Eames whispers back, "I love you too."

They fall asleep a little while after and dream.

Eames dreams of Arthur's smile and rose petals, waking up in the morning to find Arthur still in bed next to him and rose petals scattered on the floor, having fallen off in the middle of the night.

He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Written forever ago on LJ.


End file.
